Detective Lassiter, Babysitter
by Unknown-Bliss
Summary: Carlton Lassiter had been having a terrible week. Being held at gunpoint at the 7-Eleven was not how he wanted it to end. And why was that little girl so attached to him? Fun little Lassie story. Chapter Three: A Resolution
1. This is a Stick Up!

**Another Psych fic! Already! This time starring our very own Lassifrass! I freaking love Lassiter, so I had to write him his own fic. First part will have some action, but the rest will be mostly humor. Well… ONWARD!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Psych or its characters. Or 7-Eleven.**

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Carlton Lassiter had been having a terrible week. A terrible, terrible week. From having a door slammed in his face and nearly having his nose broken at the station to being pushed down a very long flight of stairs by the perp of his latest case, nothing seemed to be going his way. Now it was Friday, and on top of the past four days of misery, Lassiter was late. Very late. Breakfast from a 7-Eleven was not his first choice. Unfortunately, after waking up to find his alarm clock had run out of batteries, Carlton had to sprint out to his car, hungry and caffeine-deprived. Of course, after pulling out to the road, he realized that his tank was nearly empty (although he swore it was at least three-quarters full the day before). So there he was, rushing through the gas station convenience store, coffee and doughnut in one hand, cell phone in the other.

In his haste, Lassiter nearly tripped over a small girl who'd wandered in front of him. "Excuse me," he mumbled absentmindedly, trying to maneuver his was around the young girl.

"Have you seen my parents?" she asked innocently, stepping in his way again.

"Uh, no?" Carlton glanced at his watch. He was really, _really_ late. He tried to move around her again.

"Did you see my mommy and daddy?" This time, she tugged on his pants.

"I haven't seen them!" he snapped, his nerves obviously frayed. Then, he realized what he did. _Idiot. You don't yell at kids. _She couldn't be more than a few years old. "Uh…" The girl's almond-shaped eyes stared up at him, wide and glistening. Lassiter sighed guiltily, crouching down to level himself with the girl. He balanced himself on the balls of his feet. "Did your parents come in here with you?" he asked her as gently as he could, a hint of frustration seeping into his words. As far as he could tell, he was the only customer in the place.

The girl remained silent. Carlton was getting impatient. Normally, he liked kids, despite what his ex-wife thought. Not teenagers. Cute little kids like the one before him. Although, they could be annoying sometimes and had unnaturally high-pitched voices. He just didn't know how to deal with them well. Today, though, he didn't have the patience for much of anything.

"I dunno," the girl finally answered, wandering off in another direction.

The detective remained where he was for a few seconds, not quite sure what had happened. Then it occurred to him, _Crap! I'm late,_ and he momentarily forgot the girl. He jumped up and headed for the cash register. On the way, he dialed his partner's number on his phone.

He held it to his ear, waiting for the ringing to cease. "O'Hara?" Lassiter said when his call was answered.

"_Carlton?"_ he heard Juliet's voice on the other end. _"Where are you?"_

"I'm at the 7-Eleven getting some gas and food," he told her. He quickly turned the corner around a rack of junk food. "I'll be there-" he stopped suddenly.

"_Carlton?" _Juliet repeated.

"O'Hara… I may be a bit later than I expected…" he said carefully, slowly pulling the phone away from his ear.

He looked warily upon the gun that was now pointed at his face.

"Drop it," the man holding the gun commanded, indicating Lassiter's phone. The detective complied, setting it down on the tiled floor. He held his hands up unthreateningly.

Carlton cursed in his head. He'd been so distracted that he didn't notice the armed man walk in. The man was wearing a ski mask, a baseball cap, and a hooded sweatshirt. Anyone could have seen that the man was up to no good. Anyone but the very behind Carlton Lassiter. He let out a growl. _Damnit!_

"Are you putting the money in the bag?" the man shouted behind him at the teenage girl behind the register, his gravelly voice causing her to jump. Lassiter gaped. He hadn't even noticed the cashier being held up? He was _really_ distracted.

"Y-yes," the teen stammered. Lassiter could see her shaking.

"FASTER!" the man ordered, swinging the gun towards her.

Lassiter saw his chance. Luckily, the man hadn't noticed his badge or holster. He drew his gun swiftly, aiming at the man's head.

"SBPD! Put down your weapon!" The man whipped around with surprise, coming face to face with the muzzle of Carlton's gun.

The roles had been reversed, and Lassiter could see the desperation in the masked man's eyes. He backed up a step.

"Freeze!" Lassiter barked.

The man took another step back. His eyes flickered to the right for a split second. Before anything could be done, the man dove to the side. Carlton's gaze followed him, and his eyes widened when he saw the man grab the girl from before. He held a gun to her head. Well. He hadn't expected _that._

"I'll shoot her!" Lassiter could see it in his wild eyes. He wasn't lying. Lassiter had the sneaking suspicion he was probably on _something._ He was dangerous.

The girl wiggled, trying to push herself from the strange man. All she did was wrinkle her once-immaculate pink dress. Her lip quivered, and Lassiter could tell she was about to start crying.

"Put the gun down."

"Just…" the detective began.

"DOWN!"

"Just let her go." There was no way he was going to let that scumbag harm a hair on that child. She'd begun to sniffle, and Carlton was beginning to feel incredibly guilty for dismissing her earlier.

The man seemed to consider the words. "Fine."

Lassiter sighed with relief. _At least he has _some_ humanity in him,_ he thought derisively. He bent down, gently placing the gun down near his phone.

"Now let her go," he said with a little more force.

"Kick it to me." The man set the girl down, gun still trained on her head.

Carlton complied grudgingly, and luckily, the man released the girl. Tears in her eyes, she ran to the detective, grabbing his legs.

"The mean man hurt my head," she blubbered into his pant leg.

He lightly pushed her behind him. "Stay behind me," he told her.

"You don't want to do this," Lassiter called to the man. He'd turned back to the cashier, no longer having to worry about the disarmed detective. The man ignored him. In truth, Lassiter was trying to stall. "You can still get out of this."

The man let out a terse, staccato laugh. "I think I'm doing fine."

A minute passed in silence. The teen had finished emptying the register. She handed the bag to the man, terrified.

Before he could take his loot, sirens filled the air. _Thank God,_ Lassiter thought. _It worked._

In seconds, black and white cars pulled into the parking lot. Uniformed officers jumped out, guns drawn. O'Hara was there too.

"SBPD!" she yelled. "We have you surrounded! Drop your weapon!"

The man looked around wildly. There was no one close enough to hold hostage this time around. He had nowhere to go. After a few seconds, he let his gun fall to the ground. Gleefully, Lassiter pulled out his handcuffs and locked them around the man's wrists.

"You're under arrest for attempted robbery," he growled with a sneer.

Carlton handed the man off to an officer while Juliet walked up to her partner. He quickly retrieved his gun and phone off the floor. Behind them, other officers were taking care of the cashier.

"You okay," she asked, concern written on her face.

"I'm fine," Lassiter mumbled. "So you heard? I wasn't sure if you would."

"Yeah. You couldn't get him?"

Carlton shook his head bitterly. "He took a young girl hostage."

"That one?" Juliet inquired, pointing to the dark-haired girl, still clutching her partner's pants.

"That one."

Juliet crouched down. "Hi, I'm Juliet. What's your name?"

The girl hid her face behind Lassiter's leg. He rolled his eyes, grumbling. Was he going to have to take care of this? Juliet stood up, surprised.

"I think she likes you. You ask her." Lassiter did not miss his partner's smirk.

He looked down at the girl. "What's your name?" She mumbled something into the detective's pants. "What?"

The girl retuned his gaze. "What's _your_ name?" she giggled. Carlton glared witheringly at Juliet with a look that said, "I can't do this. Don't make me do this. You do this." All he got for a response was her huge grin. He knew she'd be taking mental pictures.

Carlton brought himself as close to level with the girl. "My name is Detective Lassiter. Now, what's your name?" he managed, sticking out his hand. He felt stupid. Though not as stupid as if he'd been talking like women do to newborn babies. There was no way he'd ever talk like that. No way. No how.

Shyly, she shook his hand. "I'm George."

"Where are her parents?" Juliet queried from above.

Lassiter straightened up. "I don't know. She was looking for them before. I didn't see anyone come in for a while."

"They would just leave her?"

"I saw a pretty birdy," George piped up. "I followed it. Then Mommy and Daddy were gone." She began sniffling again.

"Uh…" Lassiter bent down, hesitantly patting her head. "There there?" He heard his partner stifle a laugh.

"How long were you following the birdy… George?" Must be short for Georgia, Juliet decided.

George shrugged, plopping on the ground. She yawned. "I'm tired." She raised her arms at Carlton expectantly.

"Wh-what does she want?" he asked Juliet suspiciously.

Juliet chuckled. "I think she wants you to pick her up."

"What?" Lassiter hissed. He didn't mind kids, but that didn't mean he was completely comfortable with them.

"You can't just leave her there."

"Well…"

"Carlton! We need to take her to the station in case her parents come looking for her!"

"But what if she-"

"Carlton." Juliet's voice took on a threatening tone.

"O'Hara, can't you-?" She glared at him. "Fine."

Lassiter reached down, hoisting the girl up to him. George wrapped her slightly pudgy arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder. Much to his annoyance, he heard his partner let out a small 'aw.' George snuggled close to him, and before she slipped into sleep, she mumbled, "Lassie…"

"Crap," Lassiter sighed.

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******Mmmkay. Like it? It just came to me one day. I thought, 'What is the cutest thing I can think of? Lassie and a little kid?' Bingo! Well, one more chapter. Fun at the station! Review maybe?**


	2. Twinkle, Twinkle Little Lassie

**Well, I've decided to finish this up quicker than planned. YAY! I'm very happy for the positive feedback. I think I'm just excited for more Lassie cuteness. It's gotten me all happy just thinking of it. :D I think I might just start writing more and more again! I already have an idea for a crack Psych crossover! HOORAY FOR INSPIRATION!**

**Disclaimer: I in no way, shape, or form own Psych or its characters. Or 7-Eleven. And I am okay with that.**

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"Your car's here?" Juliet asked as soon as the two detectives exited the 7-Eleven.

"Yes. I already got gas," Lassiter spoke softly. As weird as it was to have George sleeping in his arms, he wasn't going to wake her. He wasn't heartless. Juliet nodded.

Lassiter walked to his car, having every intention of setting the sleeping child in the backseat. But he couldn't. He straightened up, contemplating what to do. Finally, he strode over to Juliet with a tint of red infecting his cheeks. His partner was talking with some officers and had yet to depart. He grabbed her arm, surprising her, and he pulled her aside. He got a few strange looks from the officers, but he ignored them.

"You haven't left yet?"

Carlton glanced around a few times before leaning closer to her. "I_ can't_ drive."

"What do you-"

He corrected himself. "I mean she won't let go. Her arms are like a vice!" he said in a hushed tone.

Juliet put a hand to her mouth, trying to cover a giggle. Before Lassiter could do anything, she was doubled over laughing so hard that tears were streaming down her face. This time, Lassiter could feel the officers' stares on him.

"Fine," he huffed. "I don't need your help anyways." If he was a weaker man, he would be pouting. But he wasn't. So he didn't.

Still, he couldn't believe O'Hara just _laughed_ at him. So he grumbled unhappily all the way to his car. He could still hear his partner, though her laughs were more subdued now.

Carlton tried once more to unwrap George from around his neck. _Does she lift weights? How is she still holding on?_ He then considered how ridiculous that thought was and dropped it. He finally gave up. With a resigned sigh, he climbed into the front seat, scooting it back a bit. He adjusted the steering wheel to accommodate the girl and tried to decide how to go about driving. After a bit of thought, he buckled the seatbelt over his hips, slinging the slack behind his back. With one arm, he held George up. The other took its place on the steering wheel. He sucked in a large breath. _Let's see if this works…_

Lassiter was able to drive out of the parking lot successfully. _This is so dangerous._ He drove slower than usual, being extra careful. He was plagued with grisly thoughts. What if he crashed and something happened to the girl? What if he was removed from the force? What if-? _No time for those kinds of thoughts,_ he scolded himself. _Just drive._

Luckily, he arrived at the station without incident. He met Juliet at the front.

"I see you made it here alright!" she chuckled.

Lassiter exhaled. It was as if he'd been holding his breath the entire time. "No thanks to you, O'Hara. And I think a woman was giving me googly eyes at a red light." He frowned. They were very strange googly eyes.

Juliet began to laugh hysterically again. Carlton rolled his eyes, leaving her. As he entered the building, all eyes turned to him. He felt the same damned blush creeping up his cheeks again.

"MCNAB!" he yelled. He flinched when he remembered the slumbering George. A quick check showed that she was still sleeping. Buzz ran to the Head Detective, attentive and ready to help.

"Yes, sir?" Buzz observed the child in Lassiter's arms.

"You're good with children, right?"

"Well, I guess…"

"Take her. Please."

But Buzz encountered the same problem as Lassiter had before.

"Uh, sir… She won't-"

Again, Lassiter rolled his eyes. "Never mind." He headed straight for his desk.

"Detective!" Chief Vick's voice stopped him dead in his tracks. He groaned. _What now?_

"Chief?"

"I heard you were held up at a 7-Eleven. And apparently, you made a friend. Who's that?" she asked, arms crossed.

George yawned, her arms finally leaving Lassiter's neck. "Mister Lassie!" she squeaked, and the arms were back around him. But instead of falling back asleep, George opted to slide down the detective's side as if he was a pole in a fire station.

"This is George," he grunted. "She lost her parents somewhere."

"I see, and…?"

"And we brought her here in case her parents report her missing."

"She can't have gotten too far from them," Juliet's voice added from behind them.

"Alright," Vick said. "Will you be taking care of her, Detective Lassiter?" Carlton could see a mischievous twinkle in the Chief's eye. _God, not her too!_

"I think she's really taken to him," Juliet giggled.

Lassiter tried to walk away, but he found his right leg suspiciously heavier than his left. He looked down to see George latched to his leg, showing no signs of letting go. And from his earlier experiences, he knew she wouldn't. So he just began walking, hefting his right leg (and George) as necessary. Every step he took elicited an excited squeal from his hitchhiker. He could sense all the curious eyes trained on him. He blocked them out with the simple goal of getting to his desk.

"And I need a report on the gas station incident!" Vick called after him. He nodded vaguely.

When he got to his desk, he raised his foot, setting it (and George) on his chair. To his surprise, she let go. Then the young girl began to spin herself around. And around. And around. It was making Carlton nauseous. He resolved to find himself a new chair, seeing as George probably wouldn't give it up. He needed a chair to work on his paperwork. And that paperwork needed to be done.

When he returned, George was beginning to slow down. He could see the dizziness in her eyes. She almost toppled to the floor, but Lassiter caught her, setting her back on the chair.

"Be careful," he warned instinctively. "You could get hurt."

George looked sheepishly at her toes.

"Now," Carlton told her firmly, "I have to work. It would help me a lot if you didn't make too much noise." He actively tried to soften up his language, as opposed to telling her right out to 'shut it.'

"Okay, Mister Lassie." She smiled brightly up at him. He couldn't help it. He gave her a small smile in return.

It lasted fifteen minutes. Lassiter's work was interrupted by George's sudden rendition of 'Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.' Her loud, inaccurate rendition. Lassiter knew he wasn't the only one she'd startled. He knew several reports had probably been ruined by scribbles of surprise.

Carlton pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to calm himself. He turned to George. She was beaming.

"Did you like it, Mister Lassie?"

Lassiter's breath caught in his throat. What was he supposed to say? It'd been terrible. But he couldn't tell her that. "I… uh… loved it…"

Never had Carlton seen anyone so happy.

George began swinging her legs, entertained by the fact that she was so far from the ground. Lassiter returned to his work, still thinking about what happened. Could he really make someone that happy? Given, she _was_ just a kid. Still, it felt kind of nice.

More time passed. Lassiter stood up from his seat abruptly.

"George. I have to go make copies of this." He pointed to a stack of papers in his hand. "Will you be fine here without me?" George nodded. "Will you behave?" Another nod. "You…" Lassiter felt very, very stupid. "You promise?" She nodded furiously. "Okay, I won't be gone long. Just stay."

He walked a few steps then glanced back. "Stay." He had to make sure. And he left.

George sat in silence for all of a few seconds before hopping down from the chair. She looked around. Finally, she saw what she wanted, waddling in the direction of the coffee machine. And Buzz McNab.

"'Scuse me, mister," she said, tugging on Buzz's pants.

"Oh, hello there!" Buzz gave her a smile. "What can I do for you?"

"Can I have a foamy cup?"

"A wha-?" He looked at the stack of styrofoam cups. "Oh! Okay." He handed the young girl one stark white cup.

She stared at it for a second or two. "Can I have another?"

"Um…"

Lassiter returned several minutes later. When he got to his desk, he froze, horrified.

"Oh my God!"

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**Would that be considered a cliffhanger? Huh. It was getting longer than I expected, so I'm extending this two-shot into a three-shot. Well, I'm really enjoying writing this, so you shouldn't have to wait too long. I guess this chapter is proof of that.**

**Reviews are lovely, by the way. They're worth their weight in pineapples. If reviews were actual, tangible things… Yeah.**


	3. The Brave Knight Lassie

**First off, I want to apologize for the wait. Between my AC adapter dying on me and having a crap-ton of homework every day since school started (damn you senior year AP classes!), I have had no time to complete this. But have no fear, comrades! My replacement cord got in and I had plenty of my Sunday to spend on this. It's turning out nice and long!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Psych or its characters.**

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"Wha- wha-" Carlton stuttered.

Before him, on his once-organized desk was a structure. He couldn't tell what it was, only that it was huge and built completely of styrofoam cups.

"How-? But I was only gone a few minutes," he sputtered lamely, his arms (and paperwork) hanging limp by his side.

"Oh my God, sir!" Buzz ran up behind the head detective. "This is all my fault!"

"You gave her the cups?" Lassiter pointed to George, who was sitting at his desk, perfecting her creation. He didn't take his eyes off of her, even to talk to the officer.

"Yes," McNab answered meekly.

"Why… Why would you give her so many cups?" Lassiter's signature rage had yet to appear. For the moment, he simply seemed dumbfounded.

Buzz gulped, anticipating a soul-crushing tirade at any moment. "Her eyes. She just looked at me, and I couldn't say no!" he cried. "She kept coming back for more, and I didn't have the heart to deny her!"

What Lassiter said next was not exactly what Buzz expected. "How did she even reach up that high?"

McNab, who, seconds earlier, had tried to make himself as small as possible, straightened up. "Huh?"

"She's really, really short," Carlton continued. "There's no way she could reach up that high," he mused, noting just how tall the foam building was.

"Well, you have to agree, she's some sort of architectural genius," Buzz chuckled weakly. He then took that opportunity to scurry off before Lassiter came to his senses and killed him.

George finally seemed to notice the detective standing there. Her face brightened, she let out a squeal, and she ran up to her temporary caretaker, grabbing at his hand.

"Mister Lassie, Mister Lassie, Mister Lassie, Mister Lassie! LOOK!" She dragged him to her desk. He took the opportunity to place the stack of papers on the tiny free spot that remained. He didn't like where this was going.

"What is it?" he forced out, irritation finally finding its way to him.

"A MAGICAL CASTLE!" she screeched, jumping up and down excitedly, fists clenched. Everyone turned to look at Lassiter and the 'magical castle.'

"A… Castle?"

"Uh huh, uh huh!" Carlton had to wonder if McNab also gave George coffee, because the girl was one step away from rocketing off the walls.

"Why-?" the detective began, but George ran to her styrofoam castle and gathered a few things in her tiny arms. She skipped back to Lassiter (who backed up a few steps, afraid of causing an avalanche of cups) and dumped the things, more cups, to his feet. They seemed to have some markings on them. Did McNab give her a pen, too? She sat on the ground and stared intently up at Carlton. "What?" he asked hesitantly.

"Sit."

"What?"

"Sit."

Lassiter glanced around. People were staring. George started tugging at his pants, commanding him to sit down on the ground with her. Finally, he let out a little groan and lowered himself to the floor. He crossed his long legs and waited for George to do something. Lassiter rested his elbow on his leg and his cheek on his hand. Seconds ticked by. He decided to take things into his own hands.

"What are those, George," he asked, trying to play along. In truth, he was getting a little annoyed with her.

George giggled. "Oh yeah!" She placed the three cups right side up and turned them towards Lassiter.

The first one had a large squiggly circle on it with what appeared to be a spike coming from its top. The second was a circle too, but filled in black with squiggly lines of all sorts. The third was yet another circle, but it appeared to be on another circle with four lines coming from its bottom. Lassiter titled his head to the side, trying to decipher the strange pictures.

George picked up the first one. She pointed frantically at it, directing Lassiter's attention to it. "This is Princess Georgina." Was that her full name? "She was hurt by a mean mean king. He trapped her in his evil castle! Meany." She pouted, grasping the second cup. She ran to her castle, placing the two cups by it. "BUT SUDDENLY!" she cried, running back to where Carlton was still sitting. She picked up the third cup and bolted back to the desk, making 'whoosh' noises on the way there. "The brave Knight Lassie rode up on his horsey and defeated the evil king!" She squished the second cup. "Princess Georgina was SAVED! And Knight Lassie became the hero of the people!" She began to cheer, tossing the remaining two cups up and down.

Lassiter didn't move. He felt his heart warm and melt, as well as any frustration he'd harbored before. He couldn't help but remember when he was a kid. He never had as many friends as he'd have liked, so he would always retreat into fantasy, playing cowboys and Indians, cops and robbers, and all sorts of fanciful things. He too would craft figures to help him in his quests. He found he could not be the least bit angry with George. Only strangely proud.

He stood up silently. The people he swore he heard cooing before now were silent – tense – waiting to see how he'd react.

He smiled. He was sure he imagined that collective gasp. He took a step towards George and reached down. He hoisted the girl up to eye level with him.

"George," he chuckled, "that is the most beautiful castle I have ever seen. You are a true artist."

George wiggled around in his hands modestly. "Really?"

"Of course." Lassiter scanned the room until his eyes found their target. "McNab!"

"Unfortunately, I have to work on that desk," he told her, almost solemnly. She seemed to get the message. Meanwhile, McNab had crept curiously over, wondering what he'd have to do. "So, _Mister Buzz _here is going to help you take everything down." He turned to the junior officer. "Won't you, _Mister Buzz_?" Carlton said that with threatening tone that sent shivers down Buzz's spine.

"O-Of course I will!"

Before anything else could happen, a voice Lassiter recognized, but didn't necessarily welcome, rang through the station. From right behind him. "What is that_ thing_ on Lassie's desk?"

Lassiter's whole body tensed. What the hell was he doing here?

Before his brain could scream that saying anything was a bad idea, Lassiter spun around, George still in his hands, and retorted, "For your information, Spencer, it's a castle, and it is _wonderful_." He stopped. Did he really just say that?

Spencer's and Guster's faces were aghast, probably mirroring his own. Slowly, an evil smile spread across the psychic's face. For the third time, Carlton could feel a blush threatening his face.

"What was that Lassie?" Shawn giggled maliciously.

"What are you doing here?" Lassiter ignored him. "We have no cases for you. We don't need you."

"Yeah! We don't need you!" George parroted. Three heads turned to her in surprise. She crossed her little arms and stuck out her tongue at the duo that Lassiter despised so much.

This time, a grin swept across Lassiter's face, a loud laugh escaping his throat. "George! Nice!" If he was that kind of person, he would have high-fived the hell out of that girl.

Again, Shawn and Gus gaped at the detective.

"Dude!" Spencer whined. "We just got Lassie'd by a little girl! Is there no good in the world?"

Gus eyed Lassiter warily, perhaps afraid he'd been replaced by some alien. He placed a hand on Shawn's back, turning him around. "It's okay Shawn. We should probably go."

As soon as the two left, Carlton returned to his desk, feeling very happy with himself. And George. He liked her. He really did.

Lassiter placed her on his chair, beckoning for McNab again. "Like I was saying," he chuckled, "Mister Buzz will help you, because I have to go for a little bit."

"Will you come back?"

"Of course." Then, Lassiter glared intensely at Buzz. The officer gulped. "You'd better take care of her, McNab." The sickly-sweet, danger-laden tone returned. McNab could hear a deeper meaning in that one sentence, although it wasn't "I don't want her causing any more trouble." No, it was more along the lines of, "If she gets even the tiniest scratch when I'm gone, that cat of yours will be the only thing you'll _ever_ be having. EVER." Buzz whimpered, nodding.

"O'Hara!" Lassiter was confident everything would be fine, so he strode to the front door. His partner caught up with him.

"Yes, Carlton?"

"I have to go out and get something." He cast a glance at George, who, much to McNab's dismay, was throwing herself on the castle of styrofoam. This time, it seemed she was playing Godzilla. Lassiter smirked. "If the chief asks, tell her I'll be back soon, and that this is important."

Juliet nodded, letting him pass by her.

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As he drove quickly (but still within the speed limit) back to the station, Carlton chose not to think of the incredible irony of one of his purchases. He focused solely on getting back.

After several more minutes of driving, Lassiter turned into his parking space, jumping out of his car. He had a plastic bag in one hand. He walked into the station, half afraid he'd find a unicorn doodled on the floor or something. Fortunately, it seemed that his desk was once again cleared and George was waiting patiently for him. The girl's dark eyes trained on the bag, and they sparkled expectantly. She zoomed over to meet Lassiter.

"Is there something for me in there?"

"Patience," Carlton replied simply.

O'Hara walked up to him. "Carlton, the chief didn't even know you were gone. What's in the bag?"

"Things," he answered. Juliet rolled her eyes and headed to her desk.

Lassiter took a seat at his desk, placing the white bag on the wooden surface. George was bouncing around in anticipation. Finally, Lassiter stuck his hand in the bag, making rustling sounds as he rifled around it. George held her breath. Slowly, teasing the young girl, Carlton drew his arm from the bag. Her eyes widened. She pushed her black hair from her face, making sure to capture the full glory of her gift.

In Lassiter's hand was a huge pack of super-bright watercolor markers, a fat coloring book, and a pad of plain drawing paper.

George shrieked. Lassiter reeled back, shocked. He was sure she burst his eardrum. George snatched the drawing materials with a high-pitched "thank you," and she threw herself on the floor, belly-first, ready to make art. After all, she _was_ a true artist.

Carlton breathed a sigh of relief, leaning back in his chair. He never knew what kids liked, so it was amazing that his gift was a success. But now, he could try and finish some paperwork.

Occasionally, Lassiter would glance over at George during his work. Maybe try to sneak a peek at what she was doing. But she seemed to catch him every time and would throw her body over the paper with a protective glare.

After a few minutes, Lassiter saw a pair of tiny hands sliding a colorful piece of paper onto his desk – accompanied by a giggle – before disappearing. The first time, it was a crudely colored picture of a green puppy playing with a hot pink butterfly torn straight from the coloring book. The second was of a yellow and red kitten, playing with a spool of neon blue yarn. Also from the book. More and more pages were delivered to his desk until he had a stack big enough to rival his paperwork. And win.

Several more pictures and an awkward ask-O'Hara-to-do-it potty break later, Lassiter felt he had done good work for one day. Apparently, George had too. She'd given him a sizeable stack of colorful pictures that looked like a clown barfed them up. It was then, as Carlton was contemplating what to do with the pictures, did he notice the one on the top. It was different from the others, in that George seemed to have drawn it herself.

Lassiter noticed George trying to climb in his lap, so he helped her up.

"What is this a picture of?" he asked her quietly, though he felt he already knew the answer. On the page, there were what looked to be two people. Huge oval bodies, tiny circle heads, stick arms and legs… The first one was twice as large as the second, with a mess of black swirls on its head. The second one had straight black scribbles for hair. Both had huge smiley faces. They were holding hands.

"That's you, Mister Lassie." George pointed to the big one. Then the small one. "And that's me."

Carlton's words stuck in his throat. A small, soft, sincere smile graced his lips. He took the drawing and separated it from the others. He set it at the front of his desk, where one would usually set family photos.

"Thank you, George." She beamed up at him.

"GEORGE!" The scream broke Lassiter from his contented reverie. His head snapped to the front of the station where the scream had come from. Two people, with the same olive skin and dark hair and eyes as George, were standing there. The man had his arm around the shoulders of a sobbing woman.

The parents.

George leapt from Lassiter's lap, sprinting to her parents. "Mommy! Daddy!" She was pulled into a tight embrace.

Lassiter rose, walking slowly over to the family. He smiled a little. She was finally going to go home.

"Hello," he began, holding his hand out. The father shook it. "I'm Head Detective Lassiter."

"My name is Dominic Combs. This is my wife Alessa." Lassiter shook her hand. "Did you take care of our little Georgia?" Lassiter nodded.

"Me and Mister Lassie had a lot of fun together!" George piped up.

"Did you?" he mother sniffed happily.

"Were you informed of what happened?" Lassiter asked. "Has everything been settled?"

"Yes, we talked to Chief Vick," Mr. Combs confirmed. "All we want to do now is take out daughter home."

"But… But…" George seemed to protest.

Her parents took her hands and began leading her to the door. She went limp, a tactic Carlton had seen Spencer employ several times before. She began to scream.

"I DON'T WANNA GOOOOOO!" she sobbed, lying on the floor.

"We… We have to go," Mrs. Combs said timidly.

"NOOOOOOO!"

Lassiter was unsure of what to do. Her crying was breaking his heart, more than he thought it would. He felt, very irrationally, that it was his fault. Then, he remembered something. "Hold on," he told the already-stressed parents. He ran back to his desk and packed the things he'd bought back into the plastic bag. He was reminded that he bought one more thing. He took it out of the bag, hiding it behind his back as he returned to the Combs family.

"George," he said. She quieted down to heaving sniffles. "I still have something else for you." He got down on his knee, staring George in the eye fixedly.

"Really?"

"Yes, but you have to promise to be good."

"Okay."

He pulled his hand from behind his back. He held up a small, plush collie. George's eyes immediately brightened.

"This is Little Lassie," he told her, thanking God Spencer had left. "You need to take good care of him, and he'll take good care of you." He realized how ridiculous he sounded, but chose not to care. George was worth a little absurdity.

"Like you?" Lassiter chuckled, but nodded.

"But Little Lassie would hate to see you cry, so can you be strong for him?" This time, George nodded. She hugged the plush toy close to her, her eyes still shining from tears.

Lassiter straightened up, handing the bag to George's father. "I bought some things to entertain her…"

Dominic clasped Lassiter's hand with both of his, shaking it furiously. "Thank you so much for saving her and taking care of her! I don't know what we'd do if something happened to her!"

Normally, Lassiter would say something like, "Just doing my job," but instead he remained silent. He got an even more rousing handshake from the still-crying mother.

As he watched the family leave, Carlton felt an inexplicable pang of sadness. Had _he_ really become so attached to her? When they had departed from his sight completely, he returned to his desk. He let out a small sigh. As he gathered up the drawings that had become strewn over his desk (having toppled from their precarious stack), he began to think. He had wanted kids, but after his split with Victoria, he abandoned that as a possibility. He never thought that he would ever get an experience like the one he had with George. It was something he'd sorely longed for, even though now he'd probably never admit it, even to himself. Whatever the case, Carlton knew he'd cherish his time with George forever.

Lassiter finally straightened the pictures up and opened his desk drawer, ready to drop them in, when he noticed the one George drew of them together. He reached for it, intending to put it with the others, but he stopped. He smiled and the rough, colorful lines and left it where it was. Where it belonged.

**

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**Ta-da! C'est finit!**

**The part where George is all screamy? That's happened to me before. Those times made me feel absolutely terrible, and I wanted Lassie to convey that feeling of misplaced guilt.**

**Also, I wanted to mess with the whole Lassie-kids thing at the end.**

**But I hope I pulled everything off okay ond you readers are satisfied with the ending.**

**So, I beg of you! Review! I have a few Psych things floating in my head, and reviews help fan the motivation flame! Also, I'm a bit of a review whore! So, review for honesty?**


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